In Catalonia around the summer solstice, we make one of our most traditional liqueurs, ratafía, for which the herbs, fruit and flowers that are macerated in alcohol must be collected on Saint John’s Eve, or June 23. This highly aromatic digestif has long been believed to have medicinal properties. There’s even an old Catalan rhyme along those lines: Ratafía, tres o cuatro al día (“Ratafía, three or four per day”). Different versions of the liqueur have been made for centuries in eastern Spain and some regions of France and Italy but, like the other herb liqueurs throughout Europe, they originated from the Ancient Roman and Greek custom of macerating fruit and herbs in wine, from Arabian perfume distillation and from the sophisticated medieval distillations in monasteries and convents that created the first aguardientes, or grape-based, medicinal liqueurs.

The favorite outdoor pastime of most Barcelonans is eating and drinking on a terrace. From the simplest bars to the most sophisticated, multi-starred alta cocina restaurants, something like half of our fair city’s eateries have space where diners can enjoy their meals a la fresca (and smoke a cigarette, too). Many of the best-known terraces sit on the rooftops of hotels, providing lovely tables and astonishing views that extend to the limits of the Mediterranean and menus that fill the pages of the latest Michelin guide.

Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring feature, First Stop, we asked Michael Costa, head chef at the award-winning restaurant Zaytinya, in Washington, D.C., where he heads first for food when he arrives in Barcelona. El Passadís del Pep is home to the best, most authentic Catalan seafood in the city. There is no menu but they curate the experience in such a warm, kind way that you may find that you prefer not to have to deal with a menu. The cooking is classic, minimal and serves only to enhance the natural beauty of the ingredients. No Egotarian Cuisine here, just excellent product treated with respect.

In the weeks leading up to Easter, Barcelona looks like an extension of Willy Wonka’s factory-fun house: chocolate castles, houses, animals, cars, motorbikes and even cartoon characters and fútbol celebrities fashioned out of cacao populate the city’s traditional patisseries. Catalonian confectioners expect to sell some 600,000 chocolate sculptures decorated with yellow chicks, chocolate eggs and cakes studded with hard-boiled eggs and colored feathers this year. The last are known as monas, and godparents traditionally give these to their godchildren throughout Catalonia and other parts of Spain to mark the holiday.

Early on in Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s 2001 film Amélie, the title character plunges her hand into a big sack of lentils, relishing the sensation of them slipping through her fingers, a look of pure pleasure on her face. That kind of behavior is verboten in shops that sell dry goods by weight, but buying groceries in bulk has its own inherent pleasures (and you can run your fingers through your purchases once you’re back at home). Just as with bulk wine, buying food in bulk is making a comeback in Barcelona. Not only does this practice yield less packaging waste, but in our minds, it also makes hunting for great ingredients all the more enjoyable.

For so long, bulk wine has been synonymous with plonk – even in a country like Spain, where buying wine straight from the barrel was standard practice up until the 1980s, when it was largely replaced by bottles with certified designations of origin. We are well acquainted with the bad stuff, which we call vino peleón, literally “scrappy” wine, but thankfully, the era of its ubiquity is mostly over and done with. It’s much easier these days to find good wine at low prices (€1 to €5 per liter) that’s suitable for everyday drinking. And another upside to this practice is the environmentally friendly packaging: your own jug.

Making tapas is like playing the guitar. It's easy to sound pretty good if you strum away on three basic chords, but significantly harder once you start delving into the infinite possibilities of the instrument to get your own style. At Bar del Pla, the tune is a traditional Catalan and Spanish one, but imaginative flourishes, international influences and wonderful ingredients breathe new life into the same old, often-hummed songs. (Yes, we’re still talking about tapas.)

Churros, the long, skinny, crenellated, sweet fried crullers made from just flour, water and salt, have been enjoyed for centuries in Spain, with hot chocolate and without. However, in Barcelona, xurros, as they are called in Catalan, are becoming an endangered species. In recent years, more than half of the xurrerias in the city have disappeared. Many of the old-timer xurreros who still survive have the odds stacked against them: permit renewal for a street stall is near impossible; rent has become prohibitively expensive and continues to increase; or required updates to old infrastructure might prove extremely costly. However, we know of one young newcomer who has emerged with fresh energy and inspiration, incorporating lessons from the masters in his creative take on xurros. The best way to save this endangered species is to eat it, so here are our five favorite xurrerias, which make these star-shaped doughnuts with great care – and with delicious results that are worth seeking out.

Deep in the heart of El Born lies a medieval labyrinth of dark stone buildings and massive wooden doors, scant light, narrow passageways and dozens of colorful little shops, ateliers and hidden bars and restaurants. Of the last, La Cua Curta is one of our favorites, a family restaurant specializing in cheese fondue, unusual salads, carpaccios of meat and fish, homemade pâtés and a remarkable veal steak.

Dear Culinary Backstreets,We are traveling with a group of friends to Barcelona. A few of us are vegetarians, and we all love good food. I know Barcelona is a meat – and particularly pork – lover’s paradise, but can you recommend any vegetarian-friendly restaurants? Is it possible to enjoy tapas and Spanish cuisine without meat or fish?

A hidden culinary sanctuary, El Passadís del Pep may be located in one of the most visited quarters of Barcelona, but it’s out of sight of anyone who isn’t looking for it. Once you go down the long corridor that leads to the restaurant, you don’t need to do anything, and that includes choosing what to eat. From the moment you sit down, the “house” offers you your first bottle of cava, and the celebration of food and life begins. There is no menu and there are no “daily specials,” just whatever Joan Manubens and his team decide to cook that day.

Legend has it that in 12th-century Priorat, in the region of Tarragona in southern Catalonia, there was a shepherd who dreamt every night of a ladder leaning against a pine tree. The ladder ascended from the valley all the way to heaven and angels climbed up and down, tending to their heavenly and earthly duties. Some Cistercian monks, upon hearing this story, took the vision as a divine message to build the monastery Scala Dei (“Ladder of God”) in that very spot. Those clever monks, noting the angels’ comings and goings, decided to become their wine suppliers and began cultivating grapes and making wine there.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, Where can I go in Barcelona when I'm tired of sightseeing and I just want to sit down and relax with a cup of coffee? Visiting museums and landmarks can be a lot of fun when you're a tourist but sometimes you can learn more about the life of a city by sitting in a chair in a café than you can by reading any guidebook. In Barcelona, there's no shortage of cafés but like anywhere else, it can sometimes be a bit tricky to find one that has just the right ambiance.

Editor’s note: This feature from Barcelona is the third installment in our series this week devoted to the top street foods in each of the Culinary Backstreets cities. In Barcelona, a great deal of eating is done in the streets. Sidewalk cafés line the plazas and paseos, often to the point that it’s difficult to tell which tables belong to which establishment.

As a child, Manel Palou spent hours playing in the kitchen of Andorra, his parents’ restaurant in Barcelona’s Barrio El Born. Later, as a teenager, he helped out behind the counter while his brother Miki cooked in the kitchen. Originally bought by his grandfather in 1952, the small restaurant had been around for as long as anyone could remember; even the old-timers in the neighborhood can’t remember where the name comes from or who the previous owners were. Then in 2004, Manel’s parents decided to sell Andorra and retire. Within six years, the restaurant went from being a neighborhood favorite to a mediocre Italian joint with few clients and little charm.